Alpha Squad 7, the New Tek Janson Adventures is the property of Comedy Central and Stephen Colbert, all hail the mighty pundit.
Not that it has anything to do with the story; I just thought you'd like to know.
This chapter contains gratuitous violence and gore; even more than usual! Also a bit more limey than is normal. As of this chapter I'm upgrading this story's rating to 'R' on ff.net. Despite all this, even the most hideous parts are still more funny than dark. I wish I knew how I did that...

Guardian
Chapter 23
Me, Myself, and Junko

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"He's over this way!"
"Quick! Surround him!"
"Be careful! Spread apart and fire on sight! Don't let him get the drop on you!"

Calvin "Wolf" Asmodeus clicked his tongue as he heard the local police give away their positions down the network of alleys that ran through the poverty-stricken sectors of Rostock.
{"This is not how I imagined my return to Germany after so many years..."} he mumbled in Japanese, which was an annoying habit from working in the far east for so long.
Dodging around several huddled groups of dirty, homeless vagrants that huddled beneath blankets as the police scoured the alleys, Wolf made his way toward an alleyway that he knew to be a dead end.

A group of German police officers, all of them armed with submachine guns and looking rather eager to use them, charged around an alley corner a moment later, grinding to a halt almost immediately.
The leader of the small mob, a man dressed in a black business suit and wielding a pistol with both hands, slowly took a few tentative steps forward. The alley was relatively dark, with a single light fixture over one of the back doors that had been boarded shut to prevent unauthorized entry into the buildings. The end of the alley terminated as a fifteen-foot brick wall that the assembled men figured no man could climb in the time their prey's lead had afforded him. Though old, the single light did a fairly good job of revealing all the figures grouped in the alley, and the man in black snarled as he looked upon three people cowering in the corner, wrapped in blankets.
"You there! Remove those blankets! Now!" The man shouted in German, aiming his weapon and gesturing for several police officers to join him. The figures stiffened, but didn't move to follow his orders.
Several men rushed forward and aimed their weapons at the figures, though each of them were mumbling prayers to themselves. None of them wanted to have to fire at civilians, and much more importantly, none of them wanted to be part of the squad that finally managed to corner this man. None of them really knew anything about the individual they were chasing, except that the few government agents who were leading the search had said he was extremely dangerous, and capable of killing armed men with ease.
After some hushed whispering, the blanket fell down onto the thin layer of mud that caked the sewer grate the trio was gathered over.
"Please! D-Don't shoot!" A relatively old woman stuttered frightfully, her hands shaking in the air as two young boys grasped her sides and cried softly into her dress.
The leader scowled. He knew Wolf's profile inside and out; the mercenary had several talents, but disguise was not among them. "A man just ran in here! Where did he go?" The federal agent shouted, thrusting his pistol forward menacingly. The surrounding police winced, but held their peace.
The woman simply shook her head as she clutched her head between her hands. "No! I... I c-can't! He... He..."
None of the assembled officers had the training or natural ability to sense the faint whistling noise of sleek metal objects sailing through the cold evening air, and thus nobody noticed the projectiles sailing toward them until one happened to see one of the weapons gleaming in the moonlight by sheer chance. He didn't have time to shout a warning.
Fsht! Thack! Whp! Like a veritable rain of steel, knives sailed down from above and struck the officers' weapons, knocking them from their grip and sometimes cutting the guns clean in half.
As he heard his men shouting, the federal agent whirled around, scowling as he saw the officers scatter toward the walls of the alley, looking upward in terror.
Tak! Then he heard someone land behind him, and tried to whirl back around, only to find a knife to his throat and his gun arm being held in an iron grip.
A slight twist sent a yelp of pain from the man's lips and sent his weapon clattering to the ground. It also attracted the attention of the police officers, who immediately regained some small portion of their shattered nerve and scrambled for the weapons on the ground that had been damaged lightly enough to still be usable.
Wolf gave the men a disdainful look from behind his sunglasses. Then he twisted the agent's arm further. "You," he mumbled in German, "pick up the radio. Call your other squads and tell them what I tell you, or you'll bleed to death in this alley."
The federal man swallowed nervously, cringing when he realized that the slight movement of his throat caused his flesh to meet the edge of the blade ever-so-slightly. "Wh-What are you g-going to do to me?"
"Nothing, if you cooperate," Wolf replied evenly, making sure it was loud enough for the trembling police officers to overhear. "I haven't been paid to kill you, so I'd prefer if I didn't have to."
At seeing several of the officers relax slightly, Wolf rolled his eyes. 'And to think, I'm going to have to go through this nonsense in America too. Oy. I'm glad I caught up with my sisters before I infiltrated the research complex. Igov's going to pay at least half again what he offered.'
"Now pick up the radio and get ready to turn it on. Ah! Not yet! Good. Now here's what you're going to say..."

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"But Ray-kun, why are you in such a hurry?" Junko asked morosely, her hands clasped timidly in front of her waist in a docile pose that wasn't fooling anybody. "Do you have to leave so soon?"
Rayden stopped on his way to the coat closet, noting that Junko had placed herself in-between the wall of her apartment and her sofa.
Grabbing the edge of the sofa, Rayden casually shoved it over, sending the hundred-pound piece of furniture toppling onto its front. This immediately created more space in the narrow path than Junko could fill with her body, and the Russian quickly stepped past her, not even allowing himself to touch elbows with the redhead.
Junko's left eyebrow twitched slightly at the frigid display. She was well aware that she wasn't Rayden's favorite person in the world, but the guy was colder than an arctic fish. Plus he had just broken her coffee table with her sofa.
Rayden opened the coat closet and reached for Judgment, which had been once again wrapped in rags. He already wore his trench coat - he hadn't stayed long enough to warrant taking off his coat - but he didn't trust leaving his main weapon out of his sight without some minor impediment to Junko stashing it away again.
Grabbing a hold of the cannon, Rayden tugged it out... and then blinked in surprise as a body suddenly toppled forward from behind the assorted jackets and fell face-first onto the floor.
Rayden cocked his head to the side. Ranma's robot double laid on the floor, unmoving. Looking up, he saw that his former host was blushing slightly, clearly a bit embarrassed at this turn of events.
"He, uh, has a switch in the back under his pigtail that I found that turns him on and off. And, well, it's not like we can just let him wander around Tokyo on his own, so..."
Rayden dismissed her excuses and leaned down to feel for the switch. He had been mildly curious as to Robot Ranma's fate, but like everybody except the resident lechers (who didn't know about the android's fate), had feared a detailed explanation of what had happened to him.
Finding the hidden knob, he pressed it gently, feeling the protrusion shift slightly to one side.
"GWAH!! No! No more!" Robot Ranma suddenly shouted, curling up into a ball and rolling into Rayden's legs. "Please, Mistress! Have mercy! Just let me rest!"
Rayden raised an eyebrow, and then looked up at Junko. Junko rolled her eyes.
'Hmph. Like it was MY fault he couldn't enjoy it. Stupid Seras didn't put any thought into the possible uses of nerve endings...' The redhead had found Robot Ranma's performance to be quite enjoyable, and had no intentions of restraining herself whatever the android had to say about it, but it stung her a bit that there appeared to be nothing she could do to get him to actually like sex.
Rayden, as usual, found the scenario to be idiotic, and was entirely unsympathetic when Robot Ranma realized who he was and clamped onto his leg.
"Please! You gotta get me out of here! She'll tear off my clothes and... and... it's horrible! She's totally insatiable! The woman is-" He stopped talking and slumped back onto the floor as Rayden slapped the switch again.
Without another word, he lifted the android back up and propped him against the wall of the coat closet once again.
After closing the door, the Russian headed for the exit.
"Sigh! So lonely," Junko moaned, sitting down on the bottom of her upturned couch while slumped over, "to think, the one man in my life who meant more to me than a quick ride in the sack is leaving me... and for what?"
She ALMOST had him. Rayden clenched his teeth and started to turn back around. The only thing that delayed the scathing retort on his lips, that would have provoked a long and meaningless argument that would have culminated in him staying there for another day for Junko's personal amusement, was Judgment bumping into a shelf and knocking off one of the scented candles.
His angry tirade forgotten, Rayden deftly caught the object and calmly put it back into place before turning back toward the front door. Internally he berated himself for nearly giving in to her taunts when he was so close to finally leaving.
Slam!

Junko winced as the hinges rattled slightly, and then went about sitting her couch back up.
"Oh well. Had to try," she mumbled to herself. As they had spent a lot of time together and she had pried more of his life story out of him by patience and sheer will, she had decided she rather liked the Russian man. That he apparently loathed her to the core was unfortunate, but not nearly as relevant as one might think.
Oh, she didn't like him the way she liked pretty much every guy who wasn't either a total jerk or completely hideous; not that she would have been opposed to that kind of relationship, but Rayden was one of the relatively few men who were. For her, platonic friends were far more rare than her lovers were common, and she genuinely enjoyed hearing about Rayden's life. She just knew that if she could get him to lighten up a bit that he'd like her too. Or at least he wouldn't react to her lighthearted teasing with well-disguised rage.
She had friends at work, but outside of their common occupation, she didn't spend much time with them. This was for good reason, but she could hardly let any of them know what that reason was, save maybe Ranma. Everybody assumed that she harassed the pigtailed man so often just because he was the most attractive male in the department. Which certainly helped, but wasn't the real reason she kept hanging off the DAPC's premiere martial artist. In fact, if anything, her rampant sex drive was an impediment to securing a deep friendship with Ranma, and it irritated her deeply that she had so little control.
She sighed. "It's never easy. I should hurry up and get to work..."

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"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!" Snake shouted out of his bullhorn into the faces of the assembled DAPC officers. "IT'S GREAT TO SEE YOU FOLKS!! HOW Y'ALL DOIN'? KICK BACK AND PREPARE TO BE AMAZED, PEOPLE!! BECAUSE TODAY-"
The weapons officer stumbled forward slightly as the bullhorn was wrenched out of his hands, and nearly fell forward off of the crate he was standing on.
Asuka tossed the bullhorn on the floor while she twisted a finger in her ear with her other hand. "Knock it off. We're right in front of you." The other officers, who were gathered around Snake such that no one was further than two meters away, all nodded firmly as they removed their hands from over their ears. "Now hurry up and tell us what it is you wanted to show us."
"Fine. Ruin the mood. See what I care," Snake mumbled irritably. "As some of you may have noticed, I was conspicuously absent the last few days following the robot incident."
Ranma blinked, then nodded as he rubbed his chin. "Now that you mention it, it HAS been a while since I was last on fire..."
Sakura raised her hand to speak. "Actually, we were all kind of surprised your neighborhood was still standing after Robot Snake started living there. What happened to him, anyway?"
Snake blinked. "Oh. Him. Well, after having a long discussion with the captain, which mostly involved me being held out a window and her threatening to let go, it was decided that for the benefit of all involved, he should find work elsewhere. Preferably on another continent."
Tycho raised an eyebrow. "So, what, he just left?"
"I found him a position," Snake explained dubiously, "on another continent, as requested. Let's just say he's probably doing more good than harm and leave it at that."

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"Pope Snake, after your sudden return to the Vatican, you issued some statements at the following press conference that elicited some... discontent, if you will, among the Muslim nations," a cardinal said tenderly.
Robot Snake, looking especially grand in his gold-embroidered robe and holy miter, just rolled his eyes. "REALLY? The ISLAMIC world is upset about something? And they're normally so humble and mild-mannered, too!" His voice dripping with sarcasm, he went back to throwing darts across the room at a picture of Iran's president. "Find the leaders of this newest whinefest and have them brutally executed immediately." He threw a few darts in rapid succession, nailing both eyes and the middle of the nose.
The cardinal and the bishop behind him both winced. "Uhm... your holiness, we have neither the jurisdiction nor the means to execute people."
Robot Snake stopped throwing darts, and fixed the two holy men with a dark glare. "What? What about our secret assassin cult?"
The cardinal sighed. "Once AGAIN, your holiness, the Vatican doesn't HAVE a secret cult of assassins."
"We don't? Are you saying the entire Hellsing manga series was a lie?" The android demanded.
Both of the other men blinked. Then the cardinal shrugged. "Not the WHOLE thing... but that part about Section XIII certainly isn't true."
Robot Snake considered this. "And the Nazi vampires?"
"Our involvement with them was SEVERELY overstated," the Cardinal quickly assured him.
"Bah! Then we'll need to create a secret cult of assassins! Who ever heard of a global organization without its own death squads? There are people who need killing, and I'm too busy to do it myself!"

Wincing, the bishop quickly pulled the cardinal down so that they could speak privately while the Pope was still ranting about the advantages of assassin cults.
"Cardinal, I know that such an idea is just short of blasphemy, but... I think the Pope is a robot," he finally admitted, looking quite nervous.
The cardinal frowned deeply. "Actually, the thought had crossed my mind as well... we'll just see about that..."

Clearing his throat, the cardinal interrupted Robot Snake just as he had been going into detail about shuriken that could be modeled to look like crosses.
"Pardon me, your holiness, but I recently received word that Iranian troops scavenging in Iraq blew up a troop transport and killed a dozen American marines. Will you be condemning them?"
Fsht! Little sparks shot out of Robot Snake's ears as an expression of inarticulate rage contorted his features. A moment later his eyes suddenly glowed a blazing red, as if his anger was conjuring demonic force.
"DESTROY!! DESTROY!! TERMINATE!! OBLITERATE!! ANNIHILATE!!" He started chanting rhythmically as he stalked forward. Then he stopped and turned toward the picture of the Iranian president. "KILL!!" With that pronouncement, he turned and punched straight through the wall, ripping easily through the poster and creating cracks all along the wall surrounding his fist.

This bishop stared, then sighed. "Ah. My mistake. I guess it really is him."

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"Anyhoo, moving on," Snake said as everybody finished wondering what a Snake clone could possibly do that wouldn't be detrimental to society, "I was with a couple of buddies of mine, describing some of the talents of certain individuals in our department."
Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked toward his audience. They all favored him with blank, expectant expressions except Asuka.
She rolled her eyes. "I assume you're referring to Ranma and Kyle's supernatural strength?" The blue-haired woman asked.
"I've got more than just strength," Ranma insisted, always eager to distinguish himself from some kind of super-thug. "I can do lots of stuff. Like poking stuff so that it explodes."
"Knock it off Saotome, nobody believes you," Snake said automatically. Nobody knew how Ranma had managed to escape his cell so easily, or how he had gotten Kyle out of his cell (including Kyle himself, naturally). Honestly, nobody cared. The simple fact was that Ranma could perform ancient Chinese voodoo or something that was apparently an extension of the art of kicking people really hard. That was all his teammates needed to know about it to accept it, and they gladly reveled in their ignorance.
"Anyway, Captain's right. Saotome and especially Kyle are strong enough now that frankly, giving them normal guns is a waste of time." Snake raised an eyebrow at the flabbergasted expressions of his teammates. Understandable; it was rare for him to admit any weakness or limitation in modern technology, especially in his favored realm of firearms. "This is simple tactical sense. Give Saotome a shotgun, and it's not like it's any more dangerous in his hands than mine. A bit less dangerous, probably. Me and some pals of mine put our heads together and tried to think of a way to put that muscle to work."
Turning around, he withdrew one of the smaller boxes sitting on top of the pile of crates. Then he turned toward Ranma and opened the case.
"Inspired by vampire-hunting anime, and resulting in the second tribute to this particular comic series this chapter, I give you the 13 mm. Jackal."
Ranma blinked at the gigantic black pistol that sat in the velvet-lined case. It was quite a bit bigger than any of the handguns in the armory.
"Thirty-nine centimeters long and weighing sixteen kilograms, even I'd need both hands and firm platform to fire it. For Saotome, I'm guessing that it's just enough to make him feel the kick. The rounds are custom deals; AP heads with explosive tips. One round can take a mauler's head clean off."
The pigtailed man took up the pistol in his hand, marveling at the weight of it. Still, he doubted that anything smaller than a large rifle could blast a K-type's head off in one shot.
Tiro observed the weapon skeptically. "So are the bullets blessed? The bullets are supposed to be blessed."
"Yeah, well, we deal with all sorts of stuff around here, so I kind of had to go the variety pack route as far as blessings are concerned. Naturally you've got your 'basic' slugs, but I also snooped around to try and get something special," Snake explained, picking up a second box and opening it. This one held numerous clips of ammunition. He picked up one of them and held it up, revealing a cross etched onto the side. "Silver bullets blessed by a Catholic priest." He picked up another one, this one with an obscure kanji scrawled onto the side. "Cold iron bullets empowered by a Shinto priestess." The next one had a stick figure with a swollen head scratched into it. "Brass bullets ensorcelled by a Voodoo shaman." Then he picked up the top clip from the last stack, revealing the Star of David etched into it. "And gilded bullets blessed by a Jewish rabbi."
Ranma blinked along with everyone else. "Jewish bullets? What am I supposed to shoot with those?"
"Nazis," Snake answered seriously.
The pigtailed boy scratched his chin as he stared at his new gun. "So... would it hurt them more or something?"
"No, it's just more ironic that way."
Snake turned back toward the crates and picked up a larger box, bringing it around and prying the lid open. "Also, once Tonoda heard you were a Ninja, he insisted on this stuff."
Ranma's left eyebrow twitched as he observed the two shining kodachi blades that were settled in among some thin clumps of hay. "I'm not a Ninja," he groused. Ninjas were assassins who skulked about in the dark and stabbed people in the back, not proper martial artists.
Which wasn't to say that he couldn't or hadn't done those things in the past, but they were a "plan B" sort of tactic.
"Yeah, whatever," Snake didn't really care about the subtle differences in the various classes of Japanese fighters, and made no effort to hide his ambivalence, "these things are called kodachi. They're supposed to be halfway between a dagger and a short sword."
Ranma, being more familiar with melee weapons than Snake could ever hope to be, rolled his eyes and gestured for the American to get on with it.
"The blades are titanium, and they've been given a new kind of weapons treatment developed for nano-surgical implements called 'mono-molecular edging'. The idea is that the very edge of the blade is extremely close to being one molecule thick."
Ranma considered this approvingly. He didn't know much about molecules or atoms, but he knew that the smaller the surface area of the blade edge, the easier it cut, and one molecule thick seemed pretty damn small. "How'd they manage that?"
Snake shrugged. "It's a very complex process involving lasers, pneumatic compresses, sledgehammers, and a lax interpretation of the phrase 'extremely close to'."
The pigtailed man sweatdropped. "Well, thanks anyway."
"Moving right along," Snake said, shoving the smaller boxes of Ranma's ammo off a particularly long crate on the floor, "after I got a glimpse of that whopper of a gun the Catholic guy carries around, I thought, 'Why doesn't Tekai have something like that?'"
"Because he's not bright enough to be given access to that kind of power?" Asuka asked, though her expression made it clear that it wasn't a question. She still hadn't forgotten Ranma's story of how he had used Kyle's stupidity to dispatch Asuka's robot double.
Snake shook his head. "If we all let that kind of common sense cloud our judgment, nothing would ever get blown up. So I took it upon myself to order this thing."
Prying off the top of the large crate, Snake gestured to Kyle. "C'mon and take it out. I can't lift this thing."
The blonde man moved to help, and reached into the crate to grab onto whatever his hands could find.
Once he lifted it out of the container, the others could only stare in confusion. He carried a massive cylinder nearly five feet long and nearly two feet long in diameter that appeared to be made from several machines pressed together and held in place within a steel framework of bars and levers.
"This is the Kujo 4B Mobile Armory. It's over half a metric ton of heavy weaponry and ammunition all crammed into a carrier that can be transported into battle the same way Catholic boy carts around that cannon of his. Here, lay it on its side," Snake directed.
Kyle did as instructed, marveling at finally carrying something that felt like it had weight behind it. Though he had adapted quickly to being super-human, he was still rather annoyed at having to constantly gauge and limit his strength to prevent himself from destroying everyday objects by accident.
Snake pulled a latch on the side of the Kujo 4B, and two large blocks popped out on either end. "These are the main feature, two XM-400 miniguns. There are a lot of design flaws that make them completely unusable to normal people who have to worry about things like their arms being torn apart from the force, but it should work just fine for you."
Kyle cocked his head to one side. "Why are there two of them? In case I lose one?"
The weapons officer rolled his eyes. "No, dimwit. Ranma said that Seras had your droid double firing two heavy machine guns at once with reasonable accuracy. I don't see why you can't do it too."
"Firing a minigun one-handed?" Asuka asked incredulously.
"And unsupported," Snake said while nodding. "These weapons are made to be carried around while being fired."
"Are you crazy?"
"My sanity is not in question here," Snake said firmly, not answering the question. "Now let's hurry up and see them test-fired. I want to see how quickly 6000 RPM can destroy a car."

That was Asuka's cue to massage her head irritably and then wander off to her office while muttering about her subordinates, and she wasted no time in doing so.
She was mildly surprised when Ranma broke off from the weapons demonstration to follow her, though once she gave the matter a moment of thought, she recalled what it was he likely wanted to speak with her about.
"Well Saotome, I gave your recommendation some serious thought," Asuka began, turning suddenly as Ranma stopped and straightened.
"And?" He asked hopefully.
The blue-haired woman nodded. "And I approve. Since Tuko finished cleaning up the lobby and the basement, we've had him contact some people in order to have the subterranean containment facilities rebuilt and a proper access elevator installed. Once that's complete, we'll have plenty of room to build your training hall." Then she rubbed her chin. "I'm glad we have a full containment facility now so that we can actually apprehend and contain targets indefinitely instead of destroying them on sight, but I still can't figure out how Seras managed to build that entire system of containment cells in one night... unless he'd been plotting this for a while..."
"Yeah, that must be it," Ranma mumbled, not bothering to share what Seras had explained to him about the DAPC's origins. It wasn't like anybody cared. "But you like the idea?"
"Hand-to-hand training is more important for us than most given the nature of our usual opponents. I know you used to give Chikiko and Tekai lessons before." Then she frowned. "How did that work out, anyway?"
"Have you seen either of them body-slam anybody recently?" Ranma asked, rolling his eyes. "Really, Junko has a lot of potential, but their heart isn't in it. Neither of them are aggressive enough to learn even the basic structures of Anything-Goes, and I don't know enough about any other specific styles in order to teach somebody."
Asuka raised an eyebrow. "Not aggressive enough?"
"Anything-Goes is an offensive style," Ranma explained, "in more ways than one, actually. I suspect it was really developed to help thieves and perverts do their thing, and then fight their way out when necessary." It had certainly made sense when he gave the subject enough thought. The way stealth and agility were core tenets. The way the school specialized in aerial and high-speed combat, and included techniques for fighting while running away. The way that the most powerful Anything-Goes user was Happousai, a wanderer who did little else besides petty evils. The way that the weakest was Soun, who had actually possessed the decency required to start a family and live a relatively law-abiding life. And finally there was Genma, who was somewhere in-between both power-wise and ethics-wise, and the most powerful advancements he made in Anything-Goes had been developed for the purposes of burglarly.
Ranma shook his head. "Anyway, my style is for attack, not self-defense, and I don't see the girls rushing forward to punch out a mutant anytime soon."
Asuka nodded, seconding the opinion. She was fairly certain neither of them could be trained well enough to be anything more than a combat liability anyway. "What about me?"
Ranma blinked. Twice. "You? What about you?"
"I wouldn't mind learning your combat style," the police captain mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
"But... you already kick ass," Ranma mumbled, caught flat-footed by the request.
Asuka wasn't sure what to think of that comment. Coming from Ranma it meant a lot more than most people, since Ranma neither gave out baseless flattery, nor did he have reasonable standards for what it means to "kick ass".
Preening just a bit at the comment, she smiled at her subordinate. "Well, thank you. But all I know as far as hand-to-hand combat is Karate and some Judo. I don't expect to be able to leap atop buildings or anything, but I would like to be able to kill a smaller mutant bare-handed. I was under the impression that all martial arts were for self-defense or emergencies, but this 'Anything-Goes' style sounds perfect."
Ranma thought it over. Asuka had the aggressive energy of Akane, the tactical sense and control of Ukyo, and a self-confidence that outstripped them both, even if it didn't approach his own. Which didn't make her ideal for the Anything-Goes style, as she was entirely sane and far too ethical, but he could work around that. She wasn't as tough as either of his old fiancees either, but correcting that would just have to be part of the training.
"Sure, I'll see what I can do," the pigtailed man said cheerfully, already imagining the types of machines that could be put into the training area to simulate some good endurance training. Something like the bakusai tenketsu trick, but with padding so that normal people would be knocked silly rather than having their bones ground up into powder. Not only would it let him train Asuka to the point where she could survive getting hit by a truck, but with a little practice himself, hopefully he could finally get the actual technique to work reliably.

Asuka sweatdropped as Ranma started chuckling darkly and rubbing his hands together like some sort of cartoon villain. Apparently he was really looking forward to this.

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"Gwrk!" The security guard yelped as he was slammed bodily into a wall, and felt searing pain shoot up and down his back as he felt the wall and his body start a short contest to see which would buckle first under the intense pressure.
The terrorist holding him up grinned viciously as he applied more pressure to the man's chest, where he was holding his shirt in his fist. With his other hand, he gripped the pistol that the guard had wielded just moments prior.
Crunch! Closing his fist around the small, standard-issue weapon, the handgun crumpled in his grip like tinfoil.
The terrified guard saw this, and then glanced at the man's shoulder, where he had taken a round during the charge. The bullet was still there, pressed into the small ring of blood that surrounded the "wound" (if one could even consider it worthy of the term).
Still smirking insufferably, the terrorist dropped the ruined handgun and then used that free hand to flick the bullet off of his shoulder, revealing a shallow tear in the skin beyond the bloody hole in his shirt.
"You call that pop-gun a weapon? Might as well give you clowns slingshots," the man growled behind his smirk, flexing the muscles of his free arm. Then he reared back that fist in preparation to punch.
Crunch! The sound of a human skull being crushed into little fragments was accompanied by the sound of the wall behind the skull being crushed into equally small bits.

The terrorist was still smiling gleefully as he yanked his arm out of the wall, and casually shook off the bits of human gore that now decorated his knuckles.
Then he brought his arms up as he flexed again. 'Konta's amazing! He was absolutely right! I'm freakin' invincible! This is incredible!'
Behind him, the sergeant in charge of this particular raid smirked lazily as he lit up a cigarette. He didn't mind the carnage; in fact, it made for a good show considering the surveillance they were under by both their superiors in the Freedom's Angels and the authorities who were no doubt already hacking into those same systems in place.
Alexandra Tokima had demanded a test of Yoshi's long-awaited genetic enhancement project, and after a bit of prodding, his men had obliged, reluctantly going through the twenty-four hour conversion process and fearing the worst.
They did as they were told, though. Most of the Freedom's Angels chose terrorism as a career because they had nothing left to lose.
The results had left those men nearly in tears (the good kind): improved strength, endurance and nearly bullet-proof skin had been granted, and as far as they could tell, they were otherwise the same.
Yoshi had said there might be... other side effects, but confided that he really doubted that even with the mutations, that they'd live long enough for those effects to be a problem even if they did manifest.
That Yoshi. What a kidder.

"Did you get 'em all?" The sergeant asked a younger man who was irritably poking around in his bullet-ridden abdomen; the softer skin there meant that the wounds were still problematic, even if they were unlikely to be fatal.
"Yeah, we did," the other terrorist said. "Yahomu is moving the T-virus stuff into the main pump and Kikama is contacting the authorities." Then he frowned. "Why're all these guys armed? They don't look like JSDF or Core units."
The sergeant shrugged. "Actually, they are JSDF. Not a very well-trained branch, but the government's gotten paranoid enough that they're guarding water stations and power plants with armed men now. Of course, they hardly know what to do with a gun, but whatcha gonna do?"
The subordinate winced as he found a hole that was too deep for him to pull the bullet out with his fingers. 'I can't imagine what this would be like without pain dampeners... that Konta guy is amazing... Still, gotta find some tweezers, and soon.' "Hmph. Their aim's fine, if you ask me."
The terrorist leader simply shook his head and took the time to appreciate how feeble the security actually was when faced with military-grade weaponry and organization. Discounting the fact that the force was composed of genetically enhanced humans, of course. Core in Japan was akin to America's Marine Corp. - if not much better equipped and much smaller - though they only operated within the country's major cities. The JSDF was the equivalent of the United States National Guard, in both function and competency, though they gladly yielded protection of main cities to Core. The lesser branches of the JSDF... well, they were more akin to militia when it came to armaments and training. As in the armaments sucked, and training was optional. His men had fared very well when taking torso shots from some of the weakest handguns on the planet. He didn't know how their "bullet resistance" would stand up to Core's autorifles, and it was his hope not to find out.
Glancing over the railing to his left, he looked at the huge stainless steel canal and the thousands of gallons of water that rushed through it nonstop. And he grinned. If the authorities cooperated, the Freedom's Angels would get a good chunk of funding and General Yuchtzky would have to call back the assault on the Takoyama prison for fear of getting pinned down. The authorities weren't expected to cooperate.
"Hold your positions and get ready to dump the zombie juice! We've got a half hour until we're outta here!"

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Word got out. After several weeks of silence, the Freedom's Angels had emerged again. Not in a spontaneous attack on the city this time, but rather they had decided to go with a more traditional plot involving the city's water supply and a biological weapon that they claimed would turn the populace into flesh-eating zombies.
The media glossed over the zombie part, finding it ridiculous, but the fact that evil individuals had secured a vital part of Tokyo's infrastructure and had the means to do significant harm with it was quite enough.
The officials that were "in the know" about the Freedom's Angels did not discount the zombie threat. In fact, it made them very nervous. Water had already been cut off from the pump to the rest of the city, save roughly ten blocks of residential area surrounding the pump that couldn't be cut off so easily. In all likelihood those people had heeded the government's warning and shut off their own water in addition to evacuating the area, but the risk for T-virus contamination was still extremely high, and zombie infestations tended to spread rapidly under conditions of fear and panic.
Core was dispatched and was already setting roadblocks and fortifying areas for an eventual assault on the pumping station. Its espionage section was working out a plan to stop the T-virus from being released before a major assault happened. Nobody was concerned that this left them out of range for a timely dispatch to a major prison that was undergoing several critical prisoner transfers. Afterward, blame for prison break would be flung wildly across committees and government agencies and fuel a few political agendas while crushing a few other careers, but for now everyone was determined and focused on the matter at hand.
Another dispatch order was made. Apparently one official, who didn't know that there were zombies prior to his peers telling him, panicked and made a call to the department that was supposed to handle such things.
His peers quickly found out what he had done, and that official was subjected to the unusual scenario of being savagely beaten by middle-aged politicians and bureauocrats all wailing and shouting about the inevitable destruction of the city.

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Snake giggled madly as he pressed a clip of ammunition in the light autocannon. "Sweet! Half an hour after the gear gets here, and already we have a mission!"
Asuka frowned as she looked over the light autocannons and then to the massive heavy autocannon in the crate next to it. More new weapons of Snake's. She hadn't bothered to stick around to see all of the new ways they could now kill a man, and even now, the use of these new weapons didn't seem relevant. "This is going to be an infiltration mission, Snake. These don't really look... appropriate."
Snake stopped polishing his gun and considered that. "Huh. You're right. But they look so cool!"
The light autocannons were the size of machine guns, albeit with a much stockier barrel to support the discharge of larger rounds. The heavy autocannon had the same design and relative dimensions, except that it was as long as an anti-tank rifle. Asuka assumed that Snake was counting on Kyle to use it, since he and Ranma were the only ones who could possibly carry it, and Ranma would never want something that heavy dragging him down in battle.
"Whatever. The stuff you got for Saotome should come in handy, at least. Can his pistol be fitted with a silencer?"
The Texan snorted. "You couldn't silence that gun in hard vacuum. No chance."
Kyle immediately stopped pushing buttons on his new mobile armory unit, wondering about that last statement. Could vacuum cleaners be used as silencers? They seemed pretty bulky. Maybe it was only for bigger guns.
"Well, I trust he'll be able to make it in without shooting anybody, then." Asuka looked around at all the assembled men and women. "All right, we're going to do this in two parts. Junko, you're going to drive me and Saotome to the deployment site in your car; it'll arouse less suspicion than a squad car. Then we're going to hold that exit while Ranma infiltrates the station and prevents them from dumping the virus. Snake, you're going to take Tiro and Kyle and find a good observation spot. You'll launch an assault as soon as we get confirmation from Saotome that he's either succeeded or failed in keeping the virus out of the water pumps."
Snake frowned. "But I wanna be in the infiltration group! I'm good at infiltration."
Asuka rolled her eyes. It was true; Snake had undergone extensive special ops training and was very good at sneaking around... while slaying everything in his path. Snake's idea of infiltration was very similar to his idea of assault, except that the weapons had silencers and he didn't blow anything up until he had escaped.
"Saotome will be doing the infiltration. He's good at it. And it'll give him a chance to try out those new blades."
Ranma frowned at the kodachi sheathed in the holders around his thighs. As if he'd need WEAPONS to fight.
"Will we be coordinating with the Core forces at all?" Junko asked.
Asuka shook her head. "No. As much as I'd love to say hi and get into a big fight about what we should and shouldn't be doing, there isn't enough time. Let's move out, people!"

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Colonel Mia Tokima was not happy at present.
Woosh! A meaty fist streaked by her head far faster than an untrained thug should have been able to manage. The colonel didn't waste any time being impressed, and grabbed the outstretched arm to initiate a judo throw.
WHAM! With the considerable force he was putting behind the punch guiding him, the confused terrorist found his own strength sending him careening into the wall with enough force to break through the relatively thin aluminum siding.
Mia slipped her silenced 9mm. into her hand and fired a round into the stunned terrorist's head, ducking another punch as she did so.
Darting past the next terrorist, she grimaced as she saw the blood-soaked forms of two of her subordinates, their Manta armor stained crimson. A third one was being held against the wall by another terrorist.
She snarled as she ducked another punch, and then activated her wrist blade while driving it up into her attacker's chin. Everything had gone wrong once her team had stumbled upon the first of the guards. It should have been swift and silent; the man was distracted, and wasn't even armed. He didn't turn around immediately when turning the corner in the hallway. Textbook.
Or that was how it should have been. Instead his throat had somehow offered a LOT more resistance to sharpened steel than she would have found plausible, and he had managed to slam that agent onto the floor, reducing him to a smashed, bloody mess with that one strike. A shout of surprise, and more guards had arrived. So far the only remotely good news had been that these men were only armed with crowbars and lengths of pipe instead of guns.
Letting the corpse in front of her fall, she deactivated her wrist blade and then dashed back as two others charged. Her only surviving agent was now lying on the floor, unresponsive, though it wasn't obvious whether he was alive or dead.
The first man rushing her took three bullets in the legs and staggered, eventually falling forward as the small armor-piercing rounds tore through flesh and muscle that would have stopped a conventional slug.
She moved to the next target, and her eyes widened in surprise, giving him the split-second of hesitation he needed to reach her. It was the same man she had Judo-slammed... and shot in the head. Her eyes spent that critical moment transfixed on small, bloody gouge that had been torn into the man's right temple, missing her chance to fire or dodge.
Thwump! She grimaced as she hit the floor, feeling her wrists pinned and hearing her pistol bounce away.

"Michi! You all right, man?" The mostly uninjured terrorist asked of the man clutching his bleeding legs.
"No... not all right..." he mumbled painfully. Those rounds had NOT been any kind of standard issue ammunition. Stupid special forces and their stupid budget windfalls... "Don't think I'll be walking again today..."
Seeing how his companion was injured but didn't seem to be mortally wounded, he turned his attention to the most active of the infiltrators. His first thought was to wonder why Ryuotsu was taking so long to knock her out or kill her. His second thought was a muted 'Oh. That's why.' He idly wondered how much time they had before they had to leave the water station, and if his good comrade would be willing to share his gorgeous bounty.
Mia was grimacing badly behind the Spectre goggles and rebreather mask that hid her face. The man on top of her had seemed ready to knock her out, but his desire for violence seemed to fade as his eyes swept down the length of her body.
Mentally, the colonel groaned, wishing that the Manta armor was bulky like the normal Core protect-gear. Or at least didn't mold to her curves so thoroughly. Although this new development would likely open up a possibility for escape, she decided that she'd be just as happy with unconsciousness.
The terrorist licked his lips, and then tore off Mia's wrist bracers, noticing that one of them had housed the blade that had killed two of his companions. "Well, DAMN. This is almost worth gettin' shot in the head!" He winced slightly at the throbbing reminder that he had lead embedded in his skull.
"Hey! What's going on here?"

The other terrorists looked up and fought off a groan as the de facto sergeant of this raiding party entered and looked around.
"Huh. Core's special forces, eh?" He asked rhetorically. He glanced at the two bleeding corpses of his men, and then at the two bleeding corpses in Manta armor. 'Huh. Actually, all things considered, that 'aint bad at all,' he decided to himself. Still, he didn't allow himself to show his satisfaction. "Why didn't anyone trip the alarm? What if she'd gotten through to the operations area?"
The only one of the men who remained mostly uninjured considered the question. "We surprised them right after they surprised us. If we dumped the juice now, then the whole thing pretty much goes down the drain. But now..."
The sergeant raised an eyebrow as he looked at the luscious figure that lay pinned beneath one of his men. Well, THAT was a prize, though he doubted any of them would get a chance to enjoy her. Whoever she was, she wasn't helpless if she was a part of Core at all.
"All right, look: you three are gonna head back to the van and hook up with Tanaka. Michi won't be able to make the rush to the van otherwise. We'll hold these two and sweeten the deal with Core." With that said, the lanky man grabbed Mia by the front of her suit (copping a quick feel in the process), and then ripped off her goggles and mask.
He blinked. "General Tokima?"
There was no way that illusion would have lasted long enough for her to escape, but Mia briefly debated trying to play the part purely for the novelty value. 'Nah. Not worth it.' "I'm her sister, you idiot."
"Oh," the sergeant looked unsure. "So the Doc's not messing around with the cloning vats again?"
Mia again resisted the urge to indulge the terrorists' stupidity for her own amusement. "Doc who?"
The man shook his head. "Nevermind. Bring 'er along! And don't go treating her too rough... we'll have to check with one o' the higher-ups to figure out what to do with her."

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The FA sergeant was definitely smarter than the average muscleheaded terrorist.
That was not to say, however, that he was very smart. Despite forbidding anybody to assault her, sexually or otherwise, he had still chosen to bring the two prisoners well-trained in covert operations and spycraft into the same room in which the T-virus was being held above the main pump on a gurney; effectively, they were being held in plain sight of, and four meters from, the key objective, and neither had been searched thoroughly enough to lose the electronic signal key that would have launched an attack by the Core forces on standby.
They HAD both been chained up at the wrists and attached to the railing, though. That was still a problem to overcome. Plus, he had ordered two of the men to guard them. The good news was that both their eyes were locked on her and her swimsuit-tight armor, and they hardly paid any attention to Corporal Tsuma. The bad news was that her only remaining teammate was still unconscious, so he didn't really need to be watched closely anyway. What to do, what to do...
"So, as long as I'm laying here helpless, would anybody like to have a conversation about how you're all super-strong and nearly bullet-proof?" Mia asked far more pleasantly than she felt.
Both men blinked as they finally focused their eyes on her face (not hard, her face was almost as appealing as her body).
"Heh heh! You like?" He flexed his arm, and thick layers of muscle bulged over his bicep in a manner that Mia had to admit was rather impressive. "A coupl'a shots, a dose o' the funny gas, and the next morning we wake up like this!"
"Wait... so... this is a surgical procedure, or..." Mia frowned. "Have you been cybernetically modified?"
"Naw... it's that other thing... what's the term?"
"Genetic modification?" His partner tried.
"Yeah! That's it!"
Mia's eyes widened. The Freedom's Angels were mutating their men into super-soldiers? SUCCESSFULLY? 'This is a hundred shades of bad,' she thought, glancing about herself desperately for some means of escape. 'Where the hell do these idiots get this kind of technology? Why hasn't Alex been apprehended yet? How has Wraith Labs survived the shakedown of their offices? Has there even BEEN a shakedown of their offices? What's Ranma doing here? Did he really just appear out of thin air? Do these cretins even notice that he's right behind them?'
She blinked in surprise as the last few thoughts broke through her haze of panic. Ranma Saotome had, in fact, appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and was even now pulling the gurney with the vat of T-virus on it away from the side of the room. The fact that he was making a lot of noise doing this didn't seem to register to the martial artist.
Luckily, it didn't seem to register with her two guards, either. Mia had to suppress a smile. DAMN was she hot!
She shifted her body to one side to give the two goons a sidelong view of her legs while looking as if she was trying to get comfortable.
The men gulped, still failing to notice the loud clanking of rusty wheels moving over the cheap aluminum catwalk.
Next Mia tried rolling her shoulders back, looking as if she was trying to work her wrist out of the chains. She couldn't do so, of course, but it had the effect of making her breasts bounce in a very subtle and startlingly erotic fashion. She was rewarded (though it made her feel a bit sick inside) by seeing the two men quickly adjust the waistbands of their pants.
One of them, however, immediately flushed, and then coughed into his hand. "I, uh... I gotta go use the little boy's room fer a couple minutes."
Mia blanched. 'Ugh. Not good.' As the sexually frustrated terrorist turned around and immediately caught sight of Ranma carting out their container of T-virus, the Special Ops colonel decided that she'd definitely have to apologize for this awkward incident later. Much later. Like, say, on her deathbed.

"HEY!! Who the hell-? IT'S THE DAPC!!" The man shouted, all thoughts of voluptuous, helpless brunettes being filed away for later use.
Ranma frowned, considering this new development. Then he hoisted the steel virus container up onto his shoulder, and then kicked the gurney straight at the two terrorists charging him.
He was understandably surprised when the man in front simply backhanded the relatively large, heavy metal table out of his way, sending it over the railing and into the churning water below.
'Huh. That guy's strong. Did the FAs hire more martial artists?' Ranma thought as he patiently waited for the men to reach him.
The man in the lead pulled out a large Bowie knife from his pocket, and then lunged as he slashed at Ranma in a typical street-brawler's underhand cut.
'Nope. Not a martial artist,' Ranma decided as he spun to his right, dodging out of the way of the slash and hooking his foot under the knife fighter's ankle. With a powerful kick upward, he sent the man hurtling into the air over the railing to fall into the chaotic, merciless currents of the water below.
The other terrorist stopped his own charge, horrified. "TONODA!! He can't swim!" He looked down at where a thick, muscled arm swiftly vanished under the churning water gushing around the main pumps.
Ranma blinked. "Er... well, why don't you go rescue him?"
"I can't swim either!" The remaining guard exclaimed, still leaning over the railing.
Clang! Ranma slammed the back of the man's head with the biohazard container, knocking him over the railing and sending him down into the swirling currents.
'Huh. This 'killing people indirectly' thing is pretty easy on the conscience. I could get used to this,' Ranma decided, moving the container a bit and then moving up to the two captured Core agents. "Hey Colonel!" he said, finding himself unable to remember the woman's name. "Need a hand?"
Mia shook her head. "There's no time! Forget about me!"
Ranma blinked, surprised. "Okay." Then he quickly turned to the agent chained on the railing next to her, and drew the kodachi on his leg.
Kshnk!
"Er... wait..." Mia began as Ranma quickly slung the unconscious man over his unburdened shoulder.
"Good luck getting out of here! Bye!" Ranma shouted, taking off down the hallway from whence he came.
"Hold on!" Mia said as she struggled against the chains. "If you were going to take the time to... HEY!! COME BACK!!"

Bam! The buxom colonel jumped in surprise as a door opposite Ranma's escape route slammed open, and a feeling of dread came over her.
"Just what's all the noise abo-THE VIRUS!! IT'S GONE!!" The sergeant snarled, glancing at the sliced chains next to Mia. "Everyone, advance to that hallway! We have to get that container back!"
Mia's face darkened as a dozen men, many with rifles and machine guns, all rushed past her, many giving the trapped brunette confused or curious glances.
The sergeant immediately snapped up a walkie-talkie and flipped it on. "All units, fall back to the extraction point! The enemy has escaped with the T-virus batch! Secure the biohazard container immediately and dump it if possible! Otherwise abandon the area!"
The sergeant growled and started to run after his men, but caught sight of Mia and stopped, frowning.
"So... wait, I don't get it. Why did they leave you behind?"
The brunette's eyebrow twitched, and a vein popped up on her head. "I don't want to talk about it..."
"Eh. Have it your way." Shrugging, the man took an AK-47 off of his shoulder and then charged down the catwalk after his soldiers, screaming bloody murder.

Mia frowned. "Wait... you guys aren't gonna take me either? Hello? HELLO?! HEY!! DON'T JUST LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!!"
She waited several moments, but the only sound that she could hear in response was the rough hum of the water pumps below.
"Well, might as well call in our reserve forces for the assault, right?" Seeing how there was no one to answer, she shrugged and slipped the small beacon - roughly the size and shape of a dime - into her hand from a slit in the back of her Manta armor. Then she pressed it tightly, the beacon activating in a few seconds.
She then shifted back up so that she was sitting on her legs again.
"...... Damn these chains are uncomfortable."

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(A few minutes earlier)
Asuka frowned deeply as she looked at the dead man before her. "There's no way it should have taken that many hits to drop him. Not without body armor or his ribcage being made of steel."
Junko shuddered. "So what? Ranma and Kyle can take shots like that, and they're not cyborgs either."
The blue-haired woman shook her head. "Ranma's a martial artist of impossible skill and ability. And Kyle is..."
She trailed off. Kyle could shrug off 9 mm. rounds like they were spitballs. Kyle got that way through some sort of genetic augmentation at the hands of the Freedom's Angels. "This could be bad. Very, very bad."
"Well, whatever it is, Ranma can deal with it, right?" Junko asked nervously. Their hand-to-hand/infiltration specialist had already gone on ahead, and it had been thankfully quiet since then.
"Probably. I'm not particularly worried about him," the police captain confessed, looking down at her MP5 submachine gun. "I'm going to need a bigger gun to fight super-soldiers."
Junko's head snapped the side. "Did you hear that? Somebody's-GWAH!" She didn't get to finish her sentence as Asuka grabbed her arm and yanked her behind the terrorist's van.

The back door to the water station opened a few seconds later, revealing two men helping another man with his legs torn and bloody down the stairs.
They stopped once they got a good look at their escape point.
"Tanaka! What the hell happened?"
The terrorist sporting a bloody rag wrapped around his head growled as he saw his comrade lying a pool of blood. Then he looked at the scene behind the corpse. The van was still there, though it had numerous bullet holes in the side. There was also a white station wagon at the end of the back alley that wasn't supposed to be there. At first glance, it seemed to be unoccupied.
"You think this is where those Core people came from?" the mostly immobile Michi asked.
None of the men knew the layout of the station well enough to decide otherwise, so the other two nodded reluctantly.
"Well, whatever." The uninjured man started moving down the stairs toward the waiting van. "Ryutotsu, you put Michi down in the back. I'm gonna-"
Clink! The light sound of metal bouncing on asphalt reached their ears, and the men glanced down at their feet to see a fragmentation grenade roll out from under the van to stop beneath them.
They didn't even have time to curse.
BOOM!

At hearing a number of strangled cries in the explosion, Asuka rushed out from behind the van, her weapon at the ready.
She growled as she switched her weapon onto full auto. Two of the terrorists hadn't even been knocked off their feet.
"DIE, scum-suckers!" Pstststststst!
The terrorist already on the ground planted his hands over his head as the suppressed burst of fire plowed into Ryutotsu, who swung his arms up to protect his face desperately.
Asuka grimaced as her weapon clicked empty, and watched as the frontmost terrorist stumbled back while the rearmost one retreated behind the van. 'Junko! Dammit!'
She snapped up a fresh clip in her hand and released the empty, but hesitated as the bloody-bullet ridden terrorist dashed toward her, screaming in fury.
Ryutotsu didn't even grunt when he found the submachine gun suddenly thrown in his face; it didn't do anything besides obscure his vision for a split second anyway.
It didn't occur to him that this was precisely Asuka's intent until he felt his arm and the back of his head grabbed at the same time a foot hooked under his ankle.
Wham! Asuka turned onto the man's back as she slammed his head into the ground hard enough to break the skull of any normal man, and hard enough to leave the super-soldier dazed.
Then, without wasting any time, Asuka drew her combat knife from her thigh sheath and stabbed it hard into the man's jugular, prompting an outpour of blood that quickly exhausted the man's dwindling supply.
He started spasming in agony as his strength failed him, trying desperately to get his hands on the woman on top of him, but Asuka had already torn her knife free and had moved away to find her next foe.
Pchnk!
Asuka's eyes widened, the silenced gunshot barely registering in her ears as pain blossomed in her back.

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"Eep!" Junko cried out as the man grabbed her roughly by both arms, preventing her from firing off a single shot.
"Quiet, bitch!" The man snarled, his body singed and bleeding from multiple small wounds. "You think you're real clever, doncha? Well, how's that working out for you now, huh?!"
The redhead trembled and gibbered uncontrollably as the terrorist tightened his grip, causing lightning bolts of pain to run up her arms. 'Oh no! No, please!' She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt her mind start to withdraw, and certain mental chains start to strain. 'It hurts! It hurts so much!'
"You listening to me?!" The terrorist released one of her arms to grab Junko's face, and then slammed it hard into the side of the van, denting it inward from the force, but not using enough pressure to break the woman's skull. "You're gonna make me a nice hostage, ya hear?"

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Deep within the recesses of Junko Chikiko's mind, a force stirred from its long and involuntary slumber, startled awake as consciousness seemed to recede all around it.
Wisps of emotion poured around it, feeding it, agitating it, and provoking it to action. Fear and pain swelled briefly and were then consumed in the sudden maelstrom of energies; this force, this entity, had no use for such reactions.
As the power re-manifested a consciousness and stream of thought that had remained dormant for some time, it pondered at the conditions that had provoked its awakening this time.
Drawing its favored emotions to itself and reflecting upon its prime desires, the force pushed forward to take control once more.

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Junko's shoulders slumped, and she moaned as her eyes fluttered open.
He grinned. "All right, now we're gonna go out there and you're gonna scream nice and loud for your girlfriend, okay?" He removed his hand from her face and grabbed Junko roughly around her left breast.
She frowned up at him as her eyes focused, and he blinked. She looked... sleepy. Not as if she was drifting into unconsciousness, but more like she was just waking up.
"You hurt me," she mumbled, frowning more deeply. "That wasn't very nice."
He snorted. "Nice isn't in the job description, wench."
She raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't very bright, either."
"That's not in the job description either!" The man snapped, then hesitated. "Wait a minute... I meant-"
He didn't get to finish that sentence. Junko's free hand snatched the handle of her combat knife.
Shk-KASH! Blood, flesh, and bone sprayed out in a wide arc as she cut straight through the man's neck in a lightning-quick motion that would have left Wolf deeply impressed.
Thunk! Went the terrorist's head as more blood fountained from the severed neck.
Junko casually slapped away the corpse and smiled fondly at the red stain across her knife. "Hmmm... it's been quite a while... I feel... RUSTY..." she hissed the word as she flipped the knife around in her hand expertly.

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Michi gasped for air as he lay propped up against the side of the van, Mia's 9 mm. pistol in his shaky grasp.
After watching the police captain drop onto the ground, he sighed in relief, only to start coughing violently as his accumulated injuries protested.

Asuka's instincts and training overrode the agony in her shoulderblade as she lay prone on the ground, her hand slowly sliding toward her sidearm. If it came down to two injured, immobile individuals shooting at each other from the prone position, she could only hope that her advantage in aim overcame the terrorist's advantage in resilience, but it was the only hope she had.
That's what she thought, anyway. The very LAST thing she expected was to see Junko stroll around the back of the van, looking entirely unconcerned with the situation and with her left arm spattered with blood.

"Ooh! What's this?"
The man known as Michi snapped his head around to look in the other direction, and he blinked in surprise as he saw a redheaded woman leaning over to look at him.
"Wow! You're in bad shape, aintcha?" the redhead asked, cocking her head to one side.
Under different circumstances, Michi would have been paralyzed at the spectacular view of cleavage, but as it were, his survival instincts were running the mental show. The woman had a badge, which meant she was an enemy. She was also out of reach. His hand tightened around the pistol, and he brought it around to aim at her.
Thwap! Or tried to. At some point though, a knife suddenly impaled his wrist.
"GYAAAH!!" The last terrorist in his team screamed as the pistol tumbled out of his grip. "Wh-What? How in the hell-" he stopped as his chin was suddenly grabbed, and he his head was forcibly twisted to stare right into the seductive smile of the redhead leaning over him.
"Oh, I get it. You're one of those terrorist nasties, aren't you?" She smiled like the cat that had trapped the canary. "Do you know what we do with bad, nasty men? Hmm?"
Crack! His head was again wrenched in the same direction as before. This time, however, the motion met and fought the body's skeletal limitations. After a very brief struggle, the motion won, and Michi the terrorist slumped to the ground, dead.

Asuka watched all this with wide eyes, and her hand closed on her sidearm. Junko had apparently killed the other terrorist who had disappeared and had likely found her. Junko had just snapped the injured terrorist's neck in an inefficient but undeniably effective manner. Junko Chikiko, the second most useless individual in her department, the woman who had frequently disdained all forms of lethal violence, the tramp whose only goal in life seemed to be to provide eye candy and casual sex to every man she crossed, HAD JUST CASUALLY SLAIN TWO GENETICALLY ENHANCED SUPER-SOLDIERS. Asuka's thoughts on the matter?
'Well, crap. Now what's going on?'
The killer in Junko's body sighted her, and Asuka's eyes narrowed as she drew her sidearm from its holster. That hand was between her body and the ground, so she'd probably get a single surprise shot if she needed it. If it didn't hit...
Well, Asuka had seen the speed at which Junko had tossed out that knife. She wouldn't get a chance to do anything else; if she missed, that was it. Go directly to afterlife. Do not pass Go. Do not collect dignity.
Junko, for her part, hummed merrily to herself as she withdrew her knife from the corpse's arm, and then turned toward Asuka.
She frowned, and pressed a blood-spattered index finger to her lips. Asuka was understandably concerned when the redhead idly licked the blood off.
"NOW I remember!" The redhead said cheerfully, throwing a fist in the air. "I'm part of some kind of wacky police squad! You're on my side, huh?"
"I'm your commanding officer," Asuka deadpanned. "And I've been shot. Can you give me a hand, or are you too busy being insane?"
Junko blinked repeatedly. "Insane? ME?"
"Yes, well, the thought did cross my mind, Junko," Asuka said in the same deadpan voice.
The redhead suddenly shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Nuh-uh! My name isn't Junko! My name is Akina!"
"So you have a different name for when you're crazy. Swell. Could you help me now?" The police captain tried.
Akina turned her nose up. "Booooooring! Aren't there any hot guys on my team I could be helping instead?"
A vein popped up on Asuka's head. 'Well, it seems there's ONE thing her multiple personalities can agree on.'
The redhead spent a moment in deep thought, then snapped her fingers. "OH! Right! There's a hot guy who went on in ahead of us, huh?" Grinning viciously, she turned on her heel and dashed into the water station, moving at such speeds that she left after-images in her wake.

Asuka sighed wearily and used her free hand to get a hold of her walkie-talkie.
Click! "Snake, Yamazaki, abandon position and head for the extraction point. We have an officer down."
What? Junko's been shot? Came Tiro's panicked voice.
"No, that would be me," Asuka said sourly.
Oh. Is Junko okay? The lecher asked tactlessly. Of course, he would argue later that Asuka had already explained her status, and wasn't that bad off if she could radio for help, but it still irritated the police captain.
"Miss Chikiko evidently went insane after being cornered by one of the enemy units. She then killed the ones that were threatening us, insisted that her name was 'Akina', and then entered the station, presumably to rape Saotome."
There was a long silence after that, which was eventually broken by Snake's voice.
It's gonna be one of those days, isn't it?
"Yeap. See ya soon."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma was not an infiltration specialist.
Sure, the DAPC called him an infiltration specialist. This was because he had training in Ninjitsu, could climb on walls and even ceilings without special equipment, and could move in absolute silence. He could jump into windows or onto roofs quickly and silently. Hell, he could even turn invisible, though the only person who knew of that skill was Kyle (the only person not smart enough to put its obvious advantages into a given plan).
Despite his having many abilities that any normal infiltration specialist would envy, those specialists possessed several pieces of knowledge and gear that Ranma would have greatly appreciated.
For example, Ranma wasn't especially clear on how to neutralize people silently. Outside of Genma's Umisen-ken branch, Anything-Goes was not a style that held subtlety in high regard. The basic attitude was: if you can throw a punch AND make an explosion, well, why the hell not? His martial arts were of a type that left buildings sundered and shattered in his wake, and he was damn proud of it.
Of course, he knew of ONE simple and obvious way he could have silently taken care of the terrorists in his path when he had infiltrated the compound, but... slit their throats? Yuck.
So Ranma had fallen back on the one branch of Anything-Goes that appreciated subtlety, and simply used the Umisen-ken cloak to weave invisibly past the patrolling terrorists on his way in. It worked.
Of course, then there was the path out to consider. The four-foot long, ten-inch in radius canister over his shoulder was simply too large to stash away without a much better grasp of hidden weapons than he possessed, and the man over his other shoulder was even bigger, though he doubted it was possible to stash humans away anyhow (people's ki fields tended to disrupt sustained techniques like that).
He hadn't been able to use the Umisen-ken on his way back. And all those guards were still active and conscious.

Whang! The terrorist paled as his fist impacted the biohazard container, denting its reinforced wall.
Thwack! Ranma's roundhouse smashed the man into the wall, and he quickly followed it up with a snap kick to his throat that caused him to grasp his neck in agony and cough violently.
Ranma was having one other problem that he hadn't counted on; by now he had figured out that somehow, all the terrorists in the station possessed strength and resilience just below Ryoga. In response, he had released all the restraints on his strength to compensate.
Fortunately, the men possessed none of Ryoga's defensive skills, so it was like beating on a series of especially tough punching bags to Ranma; all he had to do was concentrate on the criminals' unguarded vital points and they dropped just as quickly as they would have normally.
Unfortunately, this was quickly tiring him out. And more terrorists were starting to catch up behind him. These ones had weapons, as well.
Fortunately, his enemies all seemed absolutely TERRIFIED of the biohazard container, especially as Ranma had been regularly using it as a shield and bludgeon. Ranma didn't once stop to think that they might have a good reason for acting that way.
Unfortunately, his other burden, a slowly awakening Corporal Tsuma, was nothing but dead (and sensitive) weight.
On the whole, it looked like things were slowly edging into the terrorists' favor as far as his survival was concerned. To Ranma this was unacceptable.

Running into the next room, Ranma jumped over a bare-chested man swinging a crowbar before digging his heel into the man's skull and bouncing off to gain extra momentum.
Now in the next room, Ranma stopped. He was on a catwalk again, though instead of being suspended over a pumping reservoir or an aqueduct, this room had a solid floor, from which emerged columns of large, intertwined pipes that stretched straight up into the ceiling.
Ranma's eye twitched. 'Why did they build this place to look like the interior of the freakin' Death Star?'
"There he is!" "This way!" "Don't fire! You might hit the container!"
Well, at least this room had a solid floor, and cover. That would allow him to relieve himself of his human burden, and take a quick breather. He leapt over the side of the catwalk railing.

The terrorist sergeant burst into the room a moment later, several men at his side armed with machine guns. He quickly scanned the area over the railing.
Not good. Their target was hiding. With this much cover - 'What the hell is this room FOR, anyway?' - their target could pick apart his men one at a time, judging by the trail of savagely beaten super-soldiers his team had encountered up until now.
'I have to flush him out... but how?' He looked up at the columns of twisted pipes, and smirked.
"Aim at the pipes! Break 'em open!"
RATTA-TATTA-TATTA-TATTA-TAT!

Ranma winced as he heard the sound of bullets rending steel, and glanced around the pillar of high-pressure water lines to see a huge spray of water blasting out of one of the other columns.
'What the hell?' Another sustained burst of gunfire, and the column next to that one burst open in a wide spray of water.
"Aim lower!" The sergeant commanded. "Keep the water jets near the floor!"
The pigtailed cop frowned. A clumsy strategy, but it was more clever than he would've given the Angels credit for normally.
"Excuse me... Mister? Y-You're with the DAPC?" The Core corporal asked timidly. He had gained full consciousness just in time to vomit from being jostled about at high speed for so long. He had finished throwing up just in time to realize he was seated next to a beat-up looking biohazard container on one side, and an intimidating-looking man on the other side bearing a very distinctive department logo. He couldn't help but wonder if he was better off now than he was when unconscious in the clutches of the terrorists.
"Name's Saotome," Ranma said, not turning to look at the man while he withdrew his pistol. "Yeah, I'm DAPC. Try not to attract attention to yourself, alright?"
Taking careful aim, Ranma pointed the Jackal at one of the larger guns.
BLAM! With a report that Ranma would have sooner believed was that of a shotgun, the pistol bucked in his hand, startling the martial artist (who hadn't had the opportunity to practice with the weapon prior to this assignment).

He wasn't nearly as startled as the terrorist, who blinked repeatedly in surprise and held up his weapon. The old, poorly-maintained SAW now sported a jagged hole right below the ejection feed, and the man next to him was irritably picking slivers of metal out of his arm.
The sergeant growled. "Don't stop firing! Move on the next... huh?" Catching some movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned and looked at the other end of the catwalk, toward the door that was supposedly guarded on the other side in case their current target somehow reached it without their noticing (the only exit down on the floor led deeper into the station, so they weren't as concerned about that route).
A voluptuous redheaded woman stood at the end of the catwalk, grinning at them. She was thoroughly splattered in blood, and was even now slowly running her tongue along the bloody edge of a standard-issue combat knife in a manner that she made look at least as erotic as it was disturbing.
"Mmhmmmhmm!" She moaned as her tongue slid along the flat of the blade while she caressed the opposite edge with her thumb. "Mmmm... delicious," she whispered huskily, suddenly twirling the knife around in her hand. Then she took her free hand and used a finger to wipe off a spatter of blood that had fallen on the exposed portion of her right breast, and began to lick and suck on that finger in an EXTREMELY distracting manner.
The terrorists all stared, frozen. Ranma stared as well from his hiding place, although Akina couldn't see him.
"I'm... not sure what to make of what I'm seeing..." the sergeant confessed. It didn't help that the new arrival's clothes were torn and bloodstained, obscuring the patch that marked her as a police officer (though her clothes were still a big hint).
The redhead smirked and thrust her chest out, her breasts bouncing enticingly as two switchblade knives confiscated from fallen terrorists snapped open in her left hand. Her right held onto the military-issue combat knife loosely. She sauntered forward, her hips swaying in a manner that she had perfected long ago.
'What is this? Do all these agencies do their recruiting from Hooters, or what?' The sergeant wondered, swallowing nervously as the woman approached. The woman seemed to exude raging, raw emotion, and every one of the men found their will being helplessly sundered by two overwhelming, primal drives.
Their heads decided that fear was definitely warranted. This woman was frightening beyond all reason without taking into account that her body was painted as red as her hair.
Their other heads were busy with lust. This woman radiated sexuality; every movement seemed to be a show for their delight, every smile an invitation to sensual bliss.
Of course, EVERYONE knows that when it comes to survival, lust will screw you over every time.

The sergeant was the first to go. Evidently he had taken a step past his men toward the blood-soaked beauty when he wasn't thinking, which in retrospect was a really bad idea.
The sergeant hadn't been genetically enhanced. When he'd volunteered his squad for the procedure, it had still been experimental. Besides that, for some reason Yoshi had expected a sudden drop in intellect, and had ensured that the new super-soldiers be led by a normal human. Thus, this man didn't offer NEARLY as much resistance as the others.
Blood flew in soft, graceful, and numerous arcs as silver streaks flashed around the terrorist's body.
Bwash! He seemed to explode like a piece of fruit in a press, skin coming apart in strips and followed by a whirlwind of blood and cleanly sliced chunks of flesh and muscle. It was a horrific sight that left the hardened super-humans rooted to the spot in terror as Akina dove through the gore and into their ranks.
Too bad for them.
Thunk! One man got a switchblade shoved into his forehead all the way to the hilt. That his skull should have been too hard for ordinary steel blades to pierce was a position he never got to argue.
Vsash! One of the machine gunners had his throat ripped open by Akina's combat knife. His death was unspectacular, if not extremely painful and disturbing.
Bwack! While spinning around from her last strike, Akina's leg whipped out and collided into the bare-chested man who Ranma had met upon entering the room, launching him over the railing to slam into one of the pipe columns. He was only knocked unconscious from the impact and subsequent fall, though ironically, he would drown due to the water leaks since he landed face-down.
Slash! Shknk! Shnkt! Wham!

Ranma watched in equal parts shock and disgust as the woman he knew as Junko - soft, lovable, cuddly, flirtatious Junko - tear through the superhuman thugs in a bloody whirlwind of visceral brutality, each one meeting the deadly maelstrom of blades and boots with all the grace and dignity of a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming truck.
Eventually Ranma ducked back behind his cover, and the corporal he had rescued blinked when he saw his rescuer breathing heavily with wide eyes.
"Saotome? What's wrong? What's going on out there?" The man asked cautiously, not being able to see himself because the opposite side of the pillar's view was blocked by a water jet. All he knew is that the gunfire had stopped for several moments, only for people to start screaming incoherently.
"Uh... well..." Ranma swallowed as he heard the last of the screams from above trail off into a gurgling whimper. "Well, either we're saved... or we're dead," he mumbled unhelpfully. "I'll keep you updated."
Then he peeked back around the column he was hiding behind.
He frowned. She was gone. There was nothing on the catwalk but dead bodies, damaged guns, and a pool of blood that gently streamed over the edge of the walk to mix with the thin layer of water that had managed to fill the entire length of the room.
Ranma immediately spun around, his arm snapping up to aim the Jackal straight at Akina's forehead.
Akina grinned.

Corporal Tsuma looked at the frightening yet incredibly sexy woman as she smiled lazily, playing with a combat knife between her hands. She had apparently walked right through the high-pressure water leaks, as most of the blood had been washed off of her (though he didn't know how much had covered her before), and her bright red hair clung to her shoulders and chest, as did her plain white T-shirt (she had somehow lost both her body armor and her jacket earlier. Imagine that!)
Then he looked over at Ranma, who was staring hard at the redhead while leveling the biggest pistol he had ever seen at the woman. The pigtailed man seemed entirely convinced that the situation was about to turn violent, which for some reason seemed unlikely to him, even if it did make more sense in the larger scheme of things.
The Core agent groaned and hoped that they'd ignore him so that he could get away. Remerick had been right; these DAPC sorts were pure trouble.

Ranma recognized the woman before him on a physical level only. He could see that besides the body, this was someone, or something, entirely different from Junko Chikiko.
For one thing, she had a huge ki aura. HUGE. It dwarfed his own like a searchlight dwarfed a desk lamp. Of course, no matter how much ki she had, it didn't mean she could use it right, but Ranma knew that she was not to be challenged lightly.
Still, he had a mission. To get him and the Core guy out alive along with the container of T-virus. Apparently he had just stumbled upon a secondary mission objective as well: restore Junko back to normal. He had no idea how to do it, but he would damn well try.
He could already tell what had been the end of the terrorists; she was emitting a fear aura, similar to Happousai and Soun's demonic projection techniques, but unfocused enough that it didn't manifest visually. It also meant it was weak enough that it had no effect on him.
It was odd, though... Soun and Happousai's auras induced fear, and judging by the Angels' reactions, he had guessed she did the same thing to them, yet... the aura she was putting out now seemed to be based on some other emotion.
Had he spent more concentration on thinking about that rather than ensuring the Jackal's sights never left her forehead, Ranma certainly would have connected her present aura to the feel of Happousai's aura the first time he slammed the pervert with a hiryu shoten ha. But for now, he was more concerned with an impending battle.
"Who are you and what did you do with Junko?" Ranma snarled.

The redhead blinked in surprise, obviously taken aback by Ranma's hostility.
"Oh! I get it!" She said, suddenly smirking again. "Don't worry your pretty little head - either of them - sweetie! Junko's just fine!" Then her tone dropped and she licked her lips. "She'll be back in a bit. In the meantime, why don't you play with me?" her voice was low and husky, practically pleading for sexual contact in a manner that the ignored corporal between them could uncomfortably attest to.
Ranma was appropriately concerned with the knife in her hands. He had never been one to hand over control to his libido even when his survival WASN'T in jeopardy. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in Junko's body?"
Akina giggled and stepped forward.
BLAM! She stopped giggling and jerked back as 13 mm. round zipped over her shoulder and punctured a pipe behind her, causing a thin jet of water to spray into her back.
"No moving," Ranma deadpanned. "Now answer my questions."
It took some time for the flustered redhead to recall what the question was. She found Ranma's response surprisingly... arousing. She had never come across a will this indomitable before. Of course, she hadn't gotten out often in the past decade or so, but still... this one appeared to be a challenge. The thought excited her considerably.
"My name is Akina," she purred, planting one hand on her thigh as water streamed over her shoulders and down her back. "Me and Junko... well, you could say we share residence... her body is my body, you see."
"No, I don't," the pigtailed cop snapped. "What are you talking about?"
"Multiple personality disorder," Akina mumbled, starting to grow slightly irritated. Not at Ranma's incomprehension - she didn't really expect he'd understand - but rather that she was wet and horny and ready to go yet her continued survival dictated that she remain where she was. Ranma was a VERY good shot, and she knew that she was no match for him if he really decided her intentions were harmful. "Can I move now? I'm not going to hurt you. Promise!"
Ranma ignored the request. "Well, if you're both in her head, then bring 'er out. And don't think you can fool me about it neither; I can see that your aura's different from hers."
Akina bristled, not understanding the "aura" comment, and not caring. Surrender her body back to that timid, helpless, simpering brat before she'd even gotten a chance to have her daily recommended allowance of man-meat? No sir, not happening!
A decision was made. Ranma would hopefully hesitate to actually shoot her, meaning that having a gun in his hand would be a liability when fending her off. Most people wouldn't have settled for "hopefully" not getting blasted in the head just to jump some guy's bones, but impulsiveness was literally part of who she was.
She lunged. Ranma didn't fire, but spat a quick curse as he brought his free hand around to defend.
The redhead grinned. VICTORY!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wham! The door burst open as an armored boot crashed into it, and Mia's head whirled to the side to see a bulky armored form charge through a moment later, autorifle at the ready.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally! The reserve divisions had taken a bit longer than she would've guessed, but they were here. And judging by the fact that no terrorists had returned to the pumping room with the container of T-virus, they weren't too late.
Three individuals wearing the newest version of Core's protect-gear, the Y-31A Storm Suit, marched into the pumping room slowly, scanning every corner of the room before the soldier on point moved forward and bowed to her.
"Colonel Tokima! Corporal Mizu Kotetsu reporting!" The recently promoted corporal said, throwing a hand up in a salute. "I see the operation MOSTLY succeeded..." trailing off, Mizu was about to lean down and free the other woman when Mia interrupted.
"Listen to me, this is very important," Mia said firmly, arresting the attention of the other two soldiers who were guarding the exit and entrance. "Have you encountered any resistance so far?"
"No, Colonel. We've been proceeding cautiously in case of traps, though," Mizu said, her rebreather not scrambling her voice quite as much as the old ones did, but still being hard on the ears.
"The terrorists in this facility have undergone successful genetic enhancement," Mia said seriously, "they're bullet-resistant, and very strong. Engage at range, and KILL ON SIGHT. No prisoners under any circumstances; we can't contain them reliably at present. Understood?"
"Yes, Colonel!" All three soldiers said.
Mizu waved her companions on ahead. "Secure the next room! We have to hurry to meet up with Ganoya's troops!"
She turned back to the colonel and reached for the chains. "So you were the only survivor out of your team?" With a flick of her wrist, her combat blade slid out of her gauntlet, and she started sawing through the bonds.
Mia grimaced. "No. Corporal Tsuma survived too. At least, I assume he did. If anyone could pull off a rescue around here, it's Saotome." She said the last part a bit bitterly, as it should have been HER he was rescuing.
Mizu froze. "Saotome? Ranma Saotome is here?"
"Yes. He snuck in here and took the T-virus with him. Then all the goons took off after him," Mia explained.
"RANMA!!" Mizu suddenly shouted, jumping up and then sprinting down the catwalk into the next room.
"Huh? Hey, wait!" Mia shouted, trying to stand up only to find that her bonds were still intact and holding strong. "DAMMIT, GET BACK HERE!! I'M YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER AND YOU WILL GET ME FREE BEFORE YOU GO RUNNING... hello?"
She slumped back down into a sitting position. "When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?"
The only answer was the gentle hum of the electric pumps below her.
"...... This sucks so much."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ranma was confused.
He was also pretty sure he was lucky to be alive. When Akina had dashed toward him, his fingers had frozen over the trigger like they were made of stone; he knew right away that he couldn't possibly shoot her dead, even if it meant that he was seriously risking his own life.
When the redhead had gotten within arm's reach, she had grabbed his gun-wielding hand while he had grabbed her knife-wielding hand. Then the rest of her momentum hit, and they were both thrown backward into one of the pipe towers.
When she moved her head forward toward his, he had assumed she was going for the headbutt. He was wrong.
So in a surprising (to him) turn of events, he was pinned against a column, and Junko had her tongue in his throat rather than her knife.
This was very, very wrong. Oh, sure, it felt good, but Ranma knew better! Nothing could come from these situations except pain, heartbreak, jealousy, and tiny, overpowered elderly people! Besides, he was kind of in the middle of something, here.
Also, Ranma still wasn't one-hundred percent convinced this "Akina" girl didn't intend to eviscerate him. After all, that's what Shampoo had tried to do after the first time she kissed him.
Ranma gasped in some air as the redhead disengaged, and then started babbling as was standard procedure.
"Wh-Wh-What do y-you think you're doing? Let me go!" He said, panicking.
Akina was mildly amused that her sexual aggression seemed to be inducing fear when Ranma had stood firm in the face of oncoming battle. Of course, she was sure he'd be "standing firm" again soon enough.
"Mmmmmm... just relaaaaax," she purred, moving her head down and kissing the side of his neck.
"What the hell is wrong with you? I'm in the middle of a mission here! Do you have any idea where we ARE right now? Stop that!" Ranma shouted, accidentally loosening his grip on her wrist in his panic.
His eyes widened as her hands moved. Her free hand gripped his collar, and her knife slipped down to rest over his collarbone. That she continued giving him the mother of all hickeys did not reassure him of her intentions in the slightest.
"You! Core guy! For the love of God! HELP ME!!" Ranma shouted desperately, his arms shaking.
Corporal Tsuma shook his head. 'Like I'm stupid enough to try and stop her?' He had come close enough to getting killed already, thank-you-very-much, and he was planning on leaving this warzone with his skin intact.
"Then at least stop watching!" The pigtailed man shouted angrily.
The corporal shook his head again. Not that he was a pervert or didn't respect the officers' privacy, but he was literally unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle before him. It was too bizarre not to stare.
Shrrrrip! Ranma let out a strangled "Eep!" as Akina suddenly sliced down through his shirt, rending the garment all the way down the front.
The redhead finally removed her lips from Ranma's neck, and smirked as she watched beads of sweat roll down his forehead. "Just one more thing..."
Ranma wasn't listening to what she was saying. His eyes were locked on the woman's knife, which was still moving downward ever-so-slowly after slicing his shirt. Lower and lower, until it rested right over...
"GYAH!!" Akina hardly had time to blink as she was smashed aside into the shallow water.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" Ranma wasted no time at all, and initiated the Saotome Final Attack, though most who had seen the technique before would have noted that it lacked its usual subtlety and grace, what with him flailing his arms about wildly and screaming the whole time.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" Stopping to catch his breath once he was under the catwalk, Ranma leapt straight up, grabbed the railing, and then flipped himself over topside.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" Then he immediately left via the path that Akina had entered from, opposite his own point of entry.

Akina stared incredulously at her victi-er, conque-no, partner as he fled the room screaming, and began stuttering sadly. "But... w-why? I was j-just trying to..."
She looked down at the knife in her hands, and replayed the events in her mind. "Oh! Wait! I was just gonna cut your pants off! YOUR PANTS!!"
Ranma's screams faded into the distance.
"Aw, crud," Akina mumbled, her face darkening as a little ball of depression settled in among the raging storm of lust that whirled around her. "What's the big deal? Was it something I said?"
Tsuma knew that the question wasn't directed at him. And he knew that it was really in his best interests to remain unnoticed. But frankly, the situation was so completely ridiculous to him that he had decided he might as well abandon his own common sense. "I think it was the knife, personally."
Akina blinked and turned to the short man sitting in the water next to the biohazard container. "Really? Was it a little much?" She asked seriously, frowning at the weapon in her hand.
"Yeah. I mean, especially when it's..." he trailed off as he heard a number of light splashes, like footsteps in a puddle, over the roar of the water jets, and turned his head around to see who was coming.
Splish-splish-splish-splish-splish-splish! Ranma quickly ran up to the pair, breathing lightly, and then grabbed the biohazard container before lifting it up onto his shoulder.
Then he turned around. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" And ran away again.

Akina sweatdropped, then let out a deep, miserable sigh.
"Oh well. Are you a bad guy?" She asked the Core agent, who stiffened at the question.
"N-No! I'm on your side! Whichever side you're on, I mean!" He babbled, scooting away through the inch-high water.
In response, the redhead grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, peeling the soggy garment off of her before tossing it to the side. "You'll do."
Tsuma didn't get a chance to scream as she lunged... not that he necessarily would have.

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"Are you SURE you can extract a bullet while blindfolded?" Asuka asked nervously as Sakura leaned over her, a scalpel and forceps in her hands.
"Well... I do better than when I see blood," the blonde woman admitted nervously as Tiro guided her hands to the afflicted area on Asuka's shoulder.
The police captain groaned and turned her head back around. "Something tells me I'm going to need more anesthesia." She was currently lying face-down over the hood of Junko's car as Sakura went to work, doing what some idiot had seen fit to teach her despite her not meeting the basic standards for competency. 'Story of my life.'
Snake was standing guard next to the terrorists' van, looking over the pistol that had been used to shoot her. "Barak SP-21... never seen this kind of round in a nine mil before..." he shrugged. "Gotta be an AP slug, though it didn't even get all the way through your shoulder blade. Probably 'cause it hit armor. You might've been better off if it went clean through, though."
"Well, that's just dandy," the blue-haired woman grumbled as she felt her shoulder being jostled. "Saotome had better complete this mission, or-"
Wham! "Meep!" Squeaked Sakura, accidentally stabbing deeply with her scalpel.
As the water station door went flying off its hinges, Snake spun around, aiming his new light autocannon at head level and delighted at the prospect of getting to judge the bullet resistance of their enemies' new troops.
Needless to say, he was extremely disappointed when Ranma emerged, apparently having completed his mission if the container on his shoulder were any indication.
Tiro turned away from Ranma to bring his attention back to Asuka, and immediately winced. "Uh... you feel like another shot of morphine, Captain?"
"Why? What'd she just do?"
"Nothing! It's fine! I have the bullet!"
"Wow, that's a lotta blood... WHOA! Hey! Sakura, easy! You mean just MENTIONING blood makes you woozy?"

Ranma was vaguely aware of what was happening to Asuka, but had other things on his mind as he set down the T-virus container next to Snake.
"You gotta help me! Junko's gone crazy! She's turned into some kind of sex-crazed psycho killer!" He cried.
"As opposed to being a sex-crazed dead weight?" Snake asked, leaning back on the van lazily. Frankly, he didn't see what the big problem was. Obviously Junko was still capable of telling friend from foe, so what did it matter if she snapped and turned into an unstoppable whirlwind of death?
Ranma frowned. "I liked her better when she was dead weight. Now she's all psycho and creepy and went and changed her name on us." He scratched his belly. "Also, she destroyed my shirt."
Stab. "Hey! Sakura, get it together! She doesn't need any more holes in her today!"
"So what do we do now?" Ranma asked, glancing back nervously at the exit. "Junko's still in there and still crazy. I think all the terrorists are dead, but there's still that guy from Core that I rescued, plus Tiro's cousin."
Tiro turned around. "What? Alexandra's in there?"
"Is she the good one?"
The lecher blinked. "No. You mean Mia's in there? Is she okay?"
"She said not to worry about her," Ranma confided.
"Oh. Okay." Tiro turned back around and handed Sakura the sewing pouch from the med kit.
Asuka gasped as she felt her wound being manipulated again, and fought against the lingering pain to give her orders (if she didn't, then Snake would be in charge, and then the city would be down a pumping station). "Core should have started moving in by now. They can complete the sweep of the facility themselves. Ah! Tiro, watch her hands, not her breasts!"
"Sorry. Little higher, Sakura."
The blue-haired woman grimaced and vowed to make Sakura teach her medic techniques to someone else. "Snake, radio the Core command center and warn them about Chikiko. It's unlikely, but possible that she'll resist them violently. She should be apprehended peacefully if at all possible."
"Does this mean I won't even get to shoot something this mission?" Snake asked sadly.
"You have only Chikiko's apparent insanity to blame for that."
"Damn it!"

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On a catwalk stretching across a room that was very slowly filling with water, four men in powered armor stood while looking over one side of the railing.
All were armed, and really should have been in some sort of formation. But these individuals weren't even part of the same squad, and were all thoroughly entranced at the moment.
A brief burst of static warned them of an incoming radio message, though none of them moved.
Psht! All squads, we have a report coming in from a DAPC unit operating in the area. Keep a lookout for one of their officers, a Miss Junko Chikiko-
One of the men raised a gauntlet to the side of his helmet, and keyed the switch to respond. "She a redhead?"
Uh... yes. You found her? As red was a pretty rare hair color in Japan (as opposed to, say, emerald green, which was quite common), the command operator didn't bother to list the other physical characteristics.
"Oh yeah. We found her. Found Corporal Nikita Tsuma, too."
One of the other men let out a distorted whistle from under his rebreather. "Wow. Look at 'er go."
"Corporal's not gonna last much longer," another agreed.
"I give 'im two more minutes."
"Thousand yen says he beats that time."
"You're on!"
Please be advised that she is undergoing some form of psychotic stress reaction. She is to be subdued if possible, though if it looks as if this may provoke a violent response, you are advised to avoid her.
"She's a bit... busy right now, Command," the soldier who had replied earlier said. "Interference is not recommended. Permission to monitor the situation until we can safely apprehend her?"
What's the status on the terrorist threat present in the facility?
The Core soldiers glanced over at the pile of shredded corpses scattered around the middle of the catwalk.
"I'd have to guess someone beat us here, Command. Enemy units have been... 'neutralized'."
Understood. Squad Gamma and Omega, continue your sweep. Beta squad, you have permission to monitor Officer Chikiko until such time as you may apprehend her safely.
"Roger. Thanks, Command." He took his hand off of his helmet.
Then he twisted around as a loud clanking noise announced the arrival of another soldier in power armor.

Mizu's heavy boots rattled the relatively thin metal of the catwalk pathway, and she slowed to a stop when she saw the two men in her squad plus two others watching something in the next room.
"Hasegaru! Chimari! Have you two seen any DAPC officers?" She asked, moving down the catwalk so that she could look at what they were all staring at (the large twisted-pipe columns and various jets of water obscured her present viewpoint).
"Yes, Corporal!" Private Chimari said. Then he pointed at the scene down on the floor.
Mizu blinked. And stared. She also gaped, though nobody could tell with her rebreather mask on. "What the hell is going on here?"
"It seems like our special operations branch is working closely with the DAPC," one of the other men said solemnly, inwardly fighting the urge to laugh at his own joke.
"One minute, twenty seconds! C'mon Tsuma, you can do it!"
Mizu shook her head, then glanced at the blood-soaked bodies lying on the catwalk. "Whatever. I've got important things to do." Not waiting for a response, she rushed down the length of the catwalk toward the exit, stepping over the slicks of blood and the piles of shredded flesh as best she could.

"Affirmative! We'll take care of things here!" Chimari said, saluting to Mizu's back before turning back to the spectacle down on the ground floor.
"Aaaaaaaaand... he's done."
"NO!! One minute forty seconds! Tsuma, you wimp!"
"Somebody put in a call to Command. We're moving in to apprehend officer Chikiko. Hasegaru, you go find a sheet or a tarp or something. They're probably going to want something to wear."
"Well then, barring a hiding terrorist or booby trap, this mission is pretty much over, isn't it?"
Another soldier nodded. "Yup. I can't think of anything we might've missed."

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"What the hell is that?" Mia shouted to no one as a large, worm-like creature with a jaw full of jagged teeth slowly advanced on her.
"Hello? Somebody help!" she shouted, tugging on her chains as the creature advanced.
With a feral hiss, the creature lunged, its terrifying maw snapping as it dove toward its prey.
The colonel was by no means helpless though, and slipped her legs out from under her rear before snapping one out to catch the creature in mid-leap. It flew through the side railing from the impact, and snarled helplessly as it fell into the rapidly churning water below.
"Somebody get me OUT of here!"

**********************************************************************************

Core agents killed: 2
Public service personnel needlessly slaughtered: 22
Guards and others killed in off-stage prison break: 34
Prisoners taken into the Freedom's Angels' fold: 83
Genetically enhanced terrorists slain: 18
Military and police forces injured: 2 (Corporal Tsuma, as it turned out, would take almost as long as Asuka to recover from his physical ordeal)

End Chapter 23